


Dreams

by arynna



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:09:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arynna/pseuds/arynna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Callerovia has a dream...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

“Please, Callerovia…Please—” please what, Father? I wasn’t good enough to save you. I failed. I couldn’t even heal a paper cut, much less what the Scourge did to you. I’m so sorry…

Reality jolted her out of her memories as she heard a weak voice call her name.  
“Calle…P-Please…" there was entirely too much blood, and she felt her boot slip in a puddle of gore near the ruins of a building. A careful glance told her this was—or had been—an orphanage. The bodies of children lay scattered in the rubble, and Callerovia closed her eyes against the onslaught of images. She heard the grating of a hand on her plated boot, and looked down at the same time she felt the world open up beneath her feet. She had lived through the loss of her family, but nothing could have prepared her for this. The voice said her name again, almost in a song as Callerovia fought the war of emotions coursing through her veins.

“No. Please, no….” she kneeled down, carefully ignoring looking at the extent of the damage.  
“Calle, I did it…I s-saved him.” following the chestnut haired woman’s gaze to a few feet away where a child lay, scraped and bruised—but clearly alive.  
“You….” she swallowed hard as she dug bandages out of her packs, a sewing kit, and a tourniquet. “You did. You did and you are a-amazing. I’m so proud of you.” Calle choked.

Calle’s hands wrapped bandages, applied a tourniquet to the woman’s left leg—and washed the blood from her body in careful, soothing strokes. The look in Kilarah’s eyes spoke volumes, and Callerovia felt herself blushing despite herself.  
“S-So beautiful when you work…I’m going to miss your s-smile.”

Callerovia pretended not to notice that her voice was getting weaker. She grit her teeth and called her magic like she was the last healer in the world, letting the Light wash over her and Kilarah—a gentle, soothing hymn as the warmth caught the highlights in Kilarah’s hair, turning it auburn and stopping Calle’s singing with the beauty of it. She cupped Kilarah’s cheek gently, looking into her eyes as her other hand channeled her magic, augmented by wings of Light at her shoulderblades. She cast until she couldn’t anymore, gravel crunching under her hands as she supported her own weight on her arms, head bowed with exhaustion.

“I love you, Calle.” she heard as she raised her head, the rocks beneath her armor crunching dully with the motion. Kilarah looked into her eyes and smiled, her hand calloused on the redhead’s cheek.

“I love you too, Kilarah.” she replied firmly, resting her cheek against the other woman’s. She felt her voice quake as she noticed the cooling of Kilarah’s skin, despite her efforts. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. She’d done her best. Not to Kilarah. Not to her.

Oh, Light…Please, no.

Kilarah’s hand gently stroking her cheek in a repetitive motion caused Callerovia to start to cry, hiccuping as her tears fell on the other woman’s silver armor.

“Ssh. Don’t cry, love. It will all be all right.”  
“How can you say that?” Callerovia choked out, hands clinging to Kilarah’s own on her face.  
“Because I know you. You are stronger than you t-think. Please…Be happy. A-And remember that I love y-you…”  
Callerovia’s scream as the light went out of Kilarah Autumnlight’s eyes was the stuff that nightmares were made of. She felt her sanity snap in two, like a rubber band stretched too tightly, or a glass in the cold.

“You have to come back to me!” she shrieked, ripping off her gauntlets and placing her bare hands on the rapidly cooling cheeks of the woman she loved. Calle closed Kilarah’s eyes with a keening wail, resting her forehead against Kilarah’s, denial coloring her tone thorugh her tears as she continued speaking as though Kilarah would answer, “You have to be here. You have to come BACK and you h-have to be h-here to love me! To m-marry me and be with me, and you c-can’t. You CAN’T, Lara…Please…” Callerovia cradled Kilarah’s body like a broken doll, rocking back and forth as she felt the emptiness of a life without Kilarah seep into her veins. Her tears soaked into Kilarah’s hair, and she choked on her sobs as she stroked the chestnut tresses.

It was only when the spade struck rock that Callerovia’s nightmare ended. When the blisters had broken, and she’d spent her last scrap of energy on dragging a white boulder as a makeshift headstone that was nowhere near what Kilarah deserved.

She woke up whimpering, her body frozen and tear tracks wet upon her face.  
Kilarah was hovering over her, a wet cloth in her hands and a concerned look on her face as she held up the vial.  
“What did you PUT in this, Callerovia Sunsong?” she demanded. The vial shattered on the ground as Callerovia vaulted out of the bed and clung to Kilarah so tightly it knocked the wind out of her. She stopped the woman’s question with a kiss that was a sobbing, desperate mess—nails digging into Kilarah’s back.

“You’re…You’re o-okay!” she hiccuped. Kilarah realized Calle was crying in earnest, doing her best to hide her shock. It was the second time in 80 years that she had seen Callerovia cry.  
“I’m…Definitely okay?” she arched a brow, looking at the hysterical redhead in confusion.  
“You d-died and I c-couldn’t s-save you!” Calle wailed, hands clenched at her sides, tears silver in the moonlight. Kilarah’s brow scrunched up, a frown on her face.

“Calle. I’m not dead.” she said, pulling the girl close as she ran a hand through the other woman’s hair. “Sssh…It’s okay. Really. I’m here. I’m okay.” she repeated, rubbing Calle’s back through her thin shirt, which was damp with sweat and tears. Chewing her lower lip, Kilarah hooked her thumbs under the hem of the material, pulling it off. Fingertips ghosting a pattern over the freckles on the tops of Calle’s shoulders while pointedly avoiding looking at the rest of her body, Kilarah fumbled in the side drawer for a dry shirt, tugging it over Callerovia’s shell shocked form as she cried.

“Arms up.” she said, and Calle mechanically complied. The new shirt was Kilarah’s, and though it was too tight through the shoulders and chest, Calle sniffed it and rocked back and forth. For a moment, Kilarah feared Callerovia may faint, holding her up in a strong embrace. The redhead nuzzled her neck, and it was Kilarah who needed the support of their embrace as she felt Callerovia’s lips graze her ear.

“I love you.”  
“I love you too, Calle….So much,” it felt amazing to finally say that, and Kilarah pulled back to look into the redhead’s bloodshot eyes as she gave her a kiss, cupping Callerovia’s face in her hands and stroking her cheekbones with her thumbs.

All too soon, the two climbed back into bed. Kilarah’s head lay on Callerovia’s chest, fingertips drumming out the beat of her heart—while peals of thunder and the sound of rain lulled them into happier dreams.


End file.
